


Samson

by SuperLeon



Series: Amazing Assassin Duo [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:19:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2128200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperLeon/pseuds/SuperLeon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was weird with him. He wouldn't look at me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Samson

**Author's Note:**

> Another addition to the Amazing Assassin Duo series. James and Seth are small teenagers on the verge of becoming assassins after breaking ties with everyone around them. This fic is from Seth's POV.

It was weird with him. He wouldn't look at me.

I mean, I was used to people not wanting to look at me, it was nothing new. But it was mostly married men who acted that way. Men with wives and children at home. They would always put their wedding ring in their pocket or on the end table before getting undressed. Even the most spiteful of them-- the ones who gave theirs to me, or threw them away-- would keep their eyes focused on something that wasn't me. Maybe that way they thought they weren't actually cheating.

But he didn't have any reason to do that.

He didn't want to sleep next to me; he slept on the floor. I would have told him to sleep on the couch in the living room, but I liked not being alone for once. There wasn't any sign that he'd fallen asleep. I leaned over to watch him on the floor, finally, but he just lied there with his eyes focused on the ceiling. I can only think to do one thing to help him get to sleep.

"Can I tell you a story?"

It's what Spike used to do for me when I couldn't sleep, when it was too cold outside, when I was upset that we didn't make enough money that night. He doesn't say anything and that's fine. I'd never given a yes or no either, the action spurred.

"I used to know a girl with really long hair," I reached behind me, tucked my hand under my side to reach my back where the hair used to reach. I remember now that I was forced to cut it and it barely brushed my shoulders. "She said if she didn't grow her hair, she thought someone would stab her eyes out. She was afraid though, too."

He shifted some and continued to not look at me.

"She was always afraid her hair would get caught in places-- car doors, blenders, windows. So she was always careful. She never rode a bike or took the bus or the car, everywhere she went she walked."

"What happened to her?"

"A construction accident on her way to school. She wasn't paying attention."

"So she died."

"And it had nothing to do with her hair. She spent all that time worried for nothing. In the end, she couldn't even live a full life because she was afraid of things that would probably never happen. I wanna say it's sad, but I can't bring myself to care about her. It's her own fault-- not the accident, but living such a bland life."

He waited.

I think, for once, he was actually contemplating something. He turned around and I found my hair with my fingers. 

"You can't relate at all?" 

"I've never done anything like that. Just because I think something might be dangerous doesn't mean I'm not going to do it. I can't live my life without taking risks. We all take risks sometimes. Simple ones. Little things." I pause. "Living life every day is dangerous. Any little thing could kill us because we're so fragile."

"So I guess you don't have any regrets."

"I don't regret anything."

"Aren't you afraid of anything?"

"Not anymore."

"What happened to your family?"

He took me off guard, I didn't think he would ask that.

"...How do you know...something happened to them?"

Finally, he leans up to look directly at me. He looks like he knows I'm trying to lie, like he sees through me no problem. I don't know what to do to convince him.

"This doesn't happen to kids with parents. This isn't a place for runaways."

It sounds like something he'd heard before, instead of his own words. But, without asking again, he turns back around so that he's not facing me, and lays down.

"I...ran away. My parents don't know where I am right now, and they probably don't care, either. They didn't understand me anyway."

I can't tell if he's telling me the truth, parts of it sound really sincere. I don't ask him, though. He didn't look for a response, and in a few minutes he was asleep. 

"I don't have to worry about them. Not anymore..."


End file.
